


So Let In The Morning Light

by brodinsons (aeon_entwined)



Series: Fruit of Eden [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeon_entwined/pseuds/brodinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ORIGINALLY POSTED: March 28, 2010</p>
<p>Sam learns a thing or two about archangels, and Lucifer is painfully honest …</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Let In The Morning Light

_Just as the last though enters his mind, the sword falls._

The blade’s way heavier than he was expecting and suddenly everything seems to be going in slow motion, like someone’s TIVO-ing every movement to their personal speed. 

Sam watches Lucifer’s eyes close, and for a moment, he swears he can hear the archangel praying. _Praying._ To a God everyone believes dead and gone. 

And in that split second of awareness, everything goes blindingly clear.

He swings the blade down, burying it halfway to the hilt in the _cement_ beneath their feet and sinks to his knees across from the Devil, breathing hard.

For a few minutes, everything is completely still and silent aside from his harsh breaths. Lucifer hasn’t moved, nor opened his eyes. Then, just when he feels like he can’t wait any more and his hands are about to fuse to the hilt of the sword permanently, those alien blue eyes snap open, flaring brighter than he’d ever seen them.

“I do not understand.”

It’s kind of a strange thing. All at once, he wants to laugh, and cry and just generally berate the archangel. 

“I just spared your fucking life. A ‘thank you’ might be nice.”

Lucifer blinks at him, an odd mix of startled and slow comprehension. For a being as old as time, it seems he’s still learning human nature.

“But why? I gave you what you and your brother have sought since I was released, didn’t I?”

Wow. Angels really don’t know the definition of a succinct reply.

“Yeah. You did. But it’s not right. It didn’t feel right. I mean … why would you even offer to let me _kill_ you?”

For a moment, the archangel is completely silent. The expression on his face is a mixture of contemplation and confusion.

“Because I believed it was what you wanted. I told you I wanted to give you everything, Sam. But you never told me what you wanted. So, I assumed that was the only thing left that you could want.”

The answer should have been expected, he should’ve guessed. Instead, he feels violently sick to his stomach.

It’s so brutally _honest_ , it hurts. He had told Lucifer he didn’t want anything the archangel had to offer, and apparently, he’d taken it to heart. If there wasn’t anything physical to obtain, it was something else. And something else ended with this.

With his knees unable to support him any longer, he slumps against the side of the Impala, first staring at the blade impaled in the cement, then at the archangel still kneeling less than two feet away.

“But … how would killing you work? How would it stop anything? That would just leave the demons without someone able to control them. Then … all-out war on Earth …” Sam’s voice is quiet, uncertain.

Lucifer watches him, now more curious than anything.

He turns slightly, unconsciously or consciously displaying the still-visible shallow laceration across his throat in the process. “Killing me would render Michael and the Host’s plans irrelevant. It would ensure neither you nor your brother were pursued as vessels. However, as you just stated, it would also result in a planet-wide war between the Host and the forces of Hell.”

Sometimes, Sam hates his life. Other times, he loves it. Then there are these kinds of days. He can’t quite decide whether to thank today for being awesome or kick its ass to next Thursday for being so unbelievably frustrating.

He settles for a mild version of the former.

“Ok … you’re not dead, you’re here … what next?” For once, Sam doesn’t feel like using the scant brainpower he has to work out the plan.

Lucifer seems to consider that for a moment, then slowly rises to his feet, extending a hand to Sam. “We wait. I have not yet determined the next course of action. This is not what has been predicted for the last millennia.”

Once his hand is wrapped around the archangel’s and he’s back on his feet, Sam turns in the direction of the motel room, where he _knows_ Cas and Dean are either peeking out the window or attempting to find out what happened.

“Are you staying here … or are you going to head off somewhere?” The question is curious, and uncertain.

“I am going to stay. I … like it here.” The archangel’s tone is decided.

Sam raises an eyebrow at that, and Lucifer continues.

“I find you intriguing. I would like to stay and offer you what I can.”

With a snort, the hunter shakes his head bemusedly. “Intriguing, my ass.” He mutters, turning to head back to the room, only to find Lucifer right on his heels.

“Wait what? You’re wanting to-“ he cut himself off and buries his face in his palm, halting a foot from the door.

_I’m bringing the Devil home. Dean is_ so _not going to be impressed._


End file.
